Raining Cat Sitters and Dogs: A Dixie Hemingway Mystery (Dixie Hemingway Mysteries)

Raining Cat Sitters and Dogs: A Dixie Hemingway Mystery (Dixie Hemingway Mysteries)

Blaize Clement

Language: English

Pages: 304

ISBN: 0312369565

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


“A knockout read. For anyone who loves mysteries, animals, or just plain great writing, this is a book to savor.”—Laurien Berenson, author of Doggie Day Care Murder on Curiosity Killed the Cat Sitter
 
In this fifth installment of the wildly popular Dixie Hemingway mystery series, a mysterious young girl is missing. Lieutenant Guidry, the hunky homicide detective with whom Dixie has an on-again, off-again relationship, is trying to find the girl because she may be a material witness to a murder. Finally Dixie must go it alone to confront criminals who will stop at nothing to get what they want.

 

King Arthur's Bones

One Was a Soldier (Reverend Clare Fergusson, Book 7)

Unintended Consequences (Stone Barrington)

One, Two, Buckle My Shoe (Hercule Poirot, Book 22)

The Assassin in the Marais (Victor Legris, Book 4)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

wouldn’t have a blond woman attached to the leash trying to keep up with him. He’s polite about it, but I know he considers me a necessary nuisance. I feel that way about some people too, so I don’t take offense. Tom would have been happy to run with Billy himself, but Tom’s life had taken a nosedive a few years before when he was ambling down an aisle in a home improvement store and a display of wooden doors fell on him and crushed his spine. He’s still a top-notch CPA, and he and I trade

I said, “No word from Paco yet?” He shook his head, and I could tell from the grim line of his mouth that he didn’t want to talk about it. Overhead, the sky had gone from blue to a murky violet, and early stars were beginning to wink at us. I looked for a hint of rain clouds, but there weren’t any. At least I wouldn’t have to slog in the rain to leave Maureen’s ransom money. I stood up and brushed at cat hair and beach sand on my shorts. I said, “Well, I’m going to bed.” Michael said, “Yeah,

enough of them. Before I turned the set on, I heard a sound behind me and jerked upright. Three young men stood shoulder to shoulder in a narrow shaft of sunlight streaming through the windows. I may have made a small shriek, I’m not sure. I’m strong and I know how to defend myself, but there were three of them and only one of me. They looked to be around senior high school age, and they were almost comical in their studied scariness. Eyelids at half-mast, lips twisted in identical pouty

to my old friend Harry Henry. Okay, maybe I really wanted to find out what Harry knew about Maureen. What are old friends for if not to talk about another friend’s kidnapped husband? 19 Turtle Beach doesn’t have the floury white sand of Siesta Beach and Crescent Beach. Instead, its sand is dark and dense, the kind that turtles love to burrow into. Turtle Beach once led to a boat channel called Midnight Pass through which boats moved from the bay to the Gulf. But in a particularly boneheaded

sun. Being compassionate people, we wouldn’t run them down even if they were locals, but we probably wouldn’t be quite so patient if it weren’t for the fact that our entire economy depends on them. At the Village Diner, Tanisha, the cook, always starts my breakfast the minute she sees me come in the door. Judy, the waitress, has my first mug of coffee poured and waiting for me by the time I get to my usual booth. That’s how much of a regular I am. Judy is tall and lanky, with pecan-colored eyes

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